


Strange Breakfast Conversations

by c0cunt



Series: c0cunt's minifics [29]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6632497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of pity party drinking makes for a morning after filled with awkwardness.<br/>Prompts:  "God, shut up!", and "What am I to you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Breakfast Conversations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [approaching_asymmetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/approaching_asymmetry/gifts).



> *backflips my way out of writing angst*

  The TV and the radio were both on when Jean woke up, slightly disorientated and with a mouth drier than the desert, in a bed that wasn’t his own.  He recognized it in an instant, the silly floral pattern on the sheets was _just_ acceptable enough to be the ones that Marco’s mother had sent him when he’d first gotten his queen sized bed.  It didn’t surprise Jean that he was once again in Marco’s bed, after what felt like a night of drinking:  They had been best friends since they were teenagers, and sleeping over in each other’s beds was just a fact of life when you didn’t want to give your best friend subpar accommodations when they came over.  Though, it was a bit weird for him to be butt naked in Marco’s bed, even if it had happened before (2010 was a really weird year okay, don’t judge).  But what still annoyed Jean to no end was that Marco would put on both the TV _and_ radio as loud as possible in the morning, and he let out a groan of despair.

  “God, please shut up,” Jean mumbled into the pillow his face was still smushed in, ignoring the little puddle of drool that his chin was now in.  Jean moved to curl up tighter under the blankets, but froze when the muscles in his lower back protested.  Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he attempted to move again, only to feel the same ache from...Wait a second.  Ignoring his muscle’s protests, Jean shoved a hand down between his legs with trepidation, his senses kicking into overdrive as he felt the remnants of lube around the rim of his asshole.  Oh.  So apparently...Fuck, he couldn’t remember.  He vaguely remembered Marco inviting him over to have a pity party over being single again (fuck Mylius, what sort of damn name was Mylius anyways?  The name of a dude that couldn’t be trusted, that’s what), and that Marco hadn’t wanted to worry about getting themselves back if they went out and got drunk...But that was about as far as Jean’s memory could find, everything else was a big damn question mark.  But, judging by the ache in his muscles and lube that was now smeared on his fingers...Jean didn’t want to think now, and his thoughts were derailed as Marco’s bedroom door opened with a loud squeak, and he quickly moved his hand well away from his asshole, smearing lube in between the sheets he was sleeping on.

  “Jean, are you awake?”  Marco whispered cautiously from the door, and Jean’s mind reeled as he tried to figure out if he should pretend to be asleep or not.  Apparently his body had decided for him, as he felt a great sneeze coming on, and ducked his head into the pillow to avoid sneezing all over the bed.  Marco let out a tiny huff of a laugh as Jean spasmed with the force of the sneeze, and only laughed harder when Jean flipped him off.  Marco smiled gently at the mostly covered lump that was his best friend, who didn’t seem inclined to move any longer.  “If you’re hungry, I’m making pancakes, just come out when you’re ready and...Erm, dressed.”  Marco said, anxiously biting at his lip as he turned and hurried back to the kitchen to keep an eye on those pancakes, determined not to burn them.

  With his face shoved into a sneeze and drool covered pillow, Jean contemplated his existence and wondered exactly what he had done to deserve this.  So maybe, yeah, he could’ve been a nicer person back in high school instead of the insufferable dickwad that he had been.  Maybe if he had, that would’ve made what was bound to be an awkward breakfast and discussion not have to exist...But he really needed to piss and get his face out of this gross pillow anyways, so getting up wasn’t a half bad idea.

  Violently ignoring his protesting muscles, Jean rolled out of bed and stumbled onto unsteady footing, ignoring the desire to cover himself as he quickly crossed the bedroom to the attached bathroom.  Plus, Marco had a giant mirror in his bathroom, and he could look to see if...He caught a quick glance of himself in said mirror as he made a beeline to the toilet but ignored it.  Only after his bladder was empty, and he had thoroughly washed his hands (ignoring the small mirror above the sink), did Jean turn to face his reflection.

  He still looked mostly the same as he had the day before.  His hair was a wreck, though, tousled and tugged into a mess that only a strong brush could probably tame.  There were a few darker marks littered across Jean’s body, and he counted them like he used to count Marco’s freckles.  Three across his neck and collar bones (or was that four?  Two of them seemed to be almost merged together), one on each hip bone, and a cluster that disappeared between his thighs...Jean turned away from the mirror, craning his neck to look at his back, eyes looking for any sort of marks there as well.  The ones between his thighs stretched back, and there was a faint bite mark on his left butt cheek...But aside from that, there didn’t seem to be any more marks.  Concealer would be easy to get his hands on to hide the ones that would be visible on his neck, but he could worry about that some other time, as he smelled the pancakes Marco had said he was making on the air, and his tummy rumbled loudly to remind him how hungry he was.

  Jean went back into the bedroom, and attempted to find his clothes.  Marco’s room was a mess of clothes strewn about wherever, and Jean could only find his briefs among the devastating wreckage that covered every mildly flat surface.  Annoyed and hungry, Jean grabbed the closest shirt-like item of clothing he could find and tugged it on, following his nose out into the kitchen.  He hesitated in the doorway, for once unsure of what to do in his best friend’s apartment.  Normally, Jean would’ve just gone over and turned on the coffee machine while attempting to steal pancakes from the freshly made stack.  But apparently Marco had beat him to the coffee, the pot full and steaming, which tempted Jean away from hiding in the doorway and into the kitchen.

  There was already Jean’s favorite mug waiting on the counter as he skittered over to the coffee, with what appeared to be a spoonful of sugar already waiting in the bottom.  Marco was carefully poking at the edges of a pancake on the griddle, trying to figure out if it was ready to be flipped or not.  He looked up at Jean when he was seen in his peripheral vision, smiling softly as Jean poured himself coffee into the waiting mug, before focusing again on the very difficult task of flipping pancakes.  Jean swished his coffee around, not bothering with a spoon like a normal person, and leaned against the counter to watch Marco in silence that lasted all of maybe four seconds.

  “Do...You remember what happened last night?”  Marco asked quietly, his attention flickering from the pancake to Jean’s face, which appeared to be somewhere between forced impassiveness and nervousness.  Jean’s eyes fell to his coffee mug as if it held the answers that his mind didn’t have, and shook his head, almost feeling guilty when Marco let out a small sigh.

  “I can...Make an educated guess, if that makes it better?”  Jean mumbled into his mug, his shoulders hunching in as anxiety started to take over.  Marco let out another sigh as he flipped the pancake, and Jean couldn’t tell if it was a disappointed sigh or not.  Judging from the slightly sad look on Marco’s face, it was a disappointed sigh, which made Jean want to sink through the floor.

  “We...Uh, we said some things last night…” Marco said to the pancake batter, which was full of chocolate chips.  Jean’s favorite, and Marco only made his favorite when something really good had happened.  Jean let his foot scuff the floor, unsure of what he should say now.  Should he say he was sorry he couldn’t remember?  Or ask for details?  Shit, maybe he should’ve googled up what to do when you can’t remember sleeping with your best friend the night before...Well, if he knew where his phone was, he probably would’ve done that.  As the silence stretched between them, warm morning light streaming in through the window over the sink, Jean really only had one question he wanted to ask.

  “So...What does last night mean for like...Us?  Where do we go from here?”  Jean put his mug down as he asked, giving Marco his undivided attention.  Apparently he wasn’t expecting that, staring over at Jean as if he had just hung the sun in the sky for him without needing to be asked and pouring a little too much pancake batter onto the griddle.  Hastily putting the mix aside, Marco looked at Jean carefully before shrugging.

  “I think it should be up to you, honestly.  You just got dumped, I’ve wanted you for ages, and here we are after a bit too much to drink last night…”  Marco trailed off, not looking at Jean as he voiced his thoughts.  Jean bit at his lip as he mulled over Marco’s words, and his mind helpfully reminded him of the time a week after he’d broken up with Mina that Marco had casually said that he’d date Jean.  At the time, Jean had thought it was just to boost his ego, since Marco hadn’t mentioned it again, and a month after that he was dating Mylius (what a disaster this was now).  It was probably a bit sudden, but Jean knew Marco like the back of his own hand, and even when they argued nothing was too hard to handle with him...Which meant he had a decision.

  “Wanna...I dunno, go on a date sometime?”  Jean asked as casually as he could, his heart thumping in his throat as he waited.  Marco fumbled with the spatula he had picked up, nearly dropping it on the floor before placing it back down again, looking somewhere between absolutely delighted and nervous.

  “Are you sure?  I mean, last night was really sudden, and I know we’ve been best friends for ages, so I-” Marco’s rambling was cut off when Jean leaned over and pressed his lips against Marco’s.  Their lips were both dry and slightly chapped, and was just a quick peck, but it shut Marco up real fast as a blush darkened his cheeks.

  “Totally sure, Marmar.  Maybe sometime after breakfast, if you don’t burn it all,”  Jean said cheekily as the pancake on the griddle started to smoke.  Marco yelped and quickly flipped it, frowning as the burned underside was revealed.  The look on his face made Jean start to giggle, and soon Marco was joining him as well.

  “Shut up Jeanbo,”  Marco said with a laugh as he nudged Jean away from the stove.  “Go sit down, just one more pancake after this one,”  He added, ignoring Jean’s grumbling noises as he sat with a huff at the tiny kitchen table.  Marco looked over his shoulder at Jean once he was situated, and smiled at the lopsided grin that was spread across Jean’s face.  Maybe they were doing things slightly out of order, but since it made Jean smile like that, Marco knew he’d gladly do it again in a heartbeat.


End file.
